


Stokholm Syndrome

by Saviis_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saviis_books/pseuds/Saviis_books
Summary: Meg Masters gets captured by a voice who is hunting the taller half of the famous hunting Winchester brothers. How long can she hold out before she finally breaks?





	Stokholm Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot, I don't know if I will be continuing this and fleshing it out into a full blown fanfiction. It only mentions the paring of Meg and Castiel, Sam Winchester is also only mentioned.

“Where is he?”, the voice echoed in the small cell. There was a small speaker on the left corner next to the door. Inside, there was a demon by the name of Meg Masters. She sat on a small cot, one that was barely big enough for herself. Other than the cot, it was barren and cold. The walls were dirty and full of carvings from Chuck knows what. There were no windows, the only light that shone through was the bars on the “window” door. Tears flowed down the demon’s face. It had been months since her capture picked her up off of the side of the interstate in the middle of nowhere. “I-I.. I don't know..”, she whispered softly as she sobbed into her hands.   
She couldn't make out who the voice was. She guessed thousands of times on who it was these past three months. Lucifer would have just killed her by now and Crowley would have more.. creative ways of torture for her. So who was it? The Winchesters? No. After all she had done for them, she at least deserved a quick stab with a demon or angel blade. None of it made sense. She dubbed the sound, The Voice. Every day, the Voice asked three questions. She waited for the second one as she wiped her cheeks. Dirt and tear stains littered her face from not having a shower in a while.  
Normally, it took a lot more to bring her to tears. After everything though, she was in despair. She had no way of calling out for help, she didn't know if her unicorn was okay, and she was left with nothing, once again.   
Her clothes were worn out and matted together in some spots from blood loss while trying to perform rituals to get out of there. All failed, obviously. She wore special handcuffs that depleted her mojo like connecting bracelets. They were reinforced steel, there was no way she was getting out of those without the key.  
“Who do you work for?”, the Voice came again, interrupting her thoughts.  
“I don't work for anyone, you dimwitted as-!”  
“If you take me to him, you'll be free to go.”, the Voice interrupted.  
“I don't know who the hell you're talking about!”, Meg screamed at the speaker with as much breath as she could muster. “You would think after three months you'd get the picture!”, she added. The speaker was already off though, so her comment wasn't heard.   
She stood up from the cot with much effort. Her whole body was sore from sleeping uncomfortably. Mostly she slept out of habit these days, since there was nothing to do. Well, except be interrogated from time to time. That was rare though. She walked over to the peephole sized “window” on the door. She looked around, trying to find anything that would give her an idea on where she was. Alas, there was nothing but hallway. No other doors to different cells, no security cameras, nothing. The only evidence of there being a way out was a door straight ahead. It was almost a tease, being stuck in a rat trap and clearly seeing a way out but never being able to.   
After a while, she finally gave in. She was broken. Meg, the tough as nails demon that never backed down from a cause she believed in, was ready to talk. Next to the door was a button. When she first was thrown in there, she was instructed to use it when she felt like being chatty. At this point, she didn't know what was going to happen. If she was going to die, she just wanted to get it over with. Enough mind games.  
With a jab of her finger, she pressed the button and stood back a few feet. For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then, there was a blinding light. If she had to guess, it came from a flashlight. She averted her gaze as she squinted her eyes in slight pain.   
“Geez, lose the camera lights, would ya’?”, she mumbled under her breath.   
The door flung open to reveal a man who was at least a good eight inches taller than her. He stared at her with dead, cold eyes as his grip locked onto her arm tightly.  
“Buy me dinner first, yeah?”, she commented as he lead her down the hallway.  
“Hush with the commentary before I decide all of my efforts to break you were for nothing and I just kill you.”, the man threatened as he opened the door that she stared at her entire visit.   
She shut up. She debated on escaping as they walked, but decided it would be pointless. Chances were, he wasn't alone. No one would be that stupid. The only two she could think of that would be rocked plaid shirts and looked like they came out of a low budget men’s hunting magazine, which this man did not. She looked around the unfamiliar new hallway, and was lead into what looked like an interrogation room. ‘Here we go.’, she thought.  
He pushed her into the chair and of course used another set of chains to connect her ankles to the chair. He closed the door quickly, much quicker than a human would. She guessed vampire. Great. A demon was being held captive by a bloodsucker. If it weren't for the fact that she feared for her life, she would have laughed at the situation. He turned around and stared into her eyes, giving her a hard glare. It seemed he wasn't in a laughing mood.   
“Where is he?”, he asked as he stared down the demon. He walked up to her slowly, inspecting his prisoner. He smiled coldly as he took out a piece of paper that was folded up.  
Her eyes widened in fear as she realized it was in fact, the same voice that she had been hearing for three months. Just as she was about to give the same track answer, he shoved a picture of a man in her face. She jumped at the motion, but slowly began to focus on the mugshot in front of her. The man had shaggy, short hair that was long for a guy. His eyes were a gorgeous shade of hazel. They stared blankly into the camera, and it dawned on her. The man grew angrier the longer her silence lasted. He exhaled deeply, and his eyes were now daggers.  
“Where is he?!”, he yelled as he moved the picture from her face and replaced it with his. “Where is Sam Winchester?!”


End file.
